


Red Vines

by guileheroine



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guileheroine/pseuds/guileheroine
Summary: Adora's life is finally beginning to fall into place, but the snare of a fraught friendship keeps pulling her backwards.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a simple and lowkey high school au, probably with a tendency to the yearning/malaise that are my (un)fave aspects of teenhood. should be done in 5/6 chapters!

_Read 16:15._

 

Adora blinks, her mouth thin and expressionless, eyes boring into the little grey word in the corner of the screen. Over the  _way_ too many minutes since last Saturday that she has spent staring at it to absolutely no avail, it's drawn from her frowns and pouts and scowls plenty and, yeah, maybe not a few frustrated tears.

 

It's Friday now and she no longer has the energy for any of that, but she still can't stop looking. Trying to will it to life, as if she wouldn't be alerted as soon as there was anything worth looking at.

 

The bus arrives. She clicks her phone off and pockets it quickly, sticking her thumb in her belt loop to suppress the instantaneous urge to reach again.

 

She has other things to think about. Practice, and what would be an appropriate thing to bring to the sleepover at Glimmer’s tonight - she should bring something, right? - and the science homework that probably needs to be figured out before she leaves. (It requires a little more… imagination than what she's used to, and actually, now she figures she’ll probably ask one of the girls for help over the weekend.)

 

Once Adora has sat down, she can't not draw out her phone again. The Princess Group Chat - unimaginatively named because Bow and Glimmer wouldn’t quit changing it back and forth, until Mermista seized their admin powers without warning and locked it - is blowing out silent red notifications like a little bubble machine. Adora watches them without opening the chat, content with the weirdly warm knowledge that she would be  _welcome_ to.

 

She  _knows_ that Catra definitely has nothing like that.

 

And immediately, she feels awful for knowing it.

 

Her wrist loosens and the phone falls into the dip between her thighs. She glances straight ahead out of the window, at the blur of trees and houses. It's neither sunny nor cloudy out - the perfect balance, in her opinion. The steady rumble of engine, the rhythm of the journey, lulls her deeper into her mind.

 

So she and Catra haven't really been on speaking terms since she transferred to Brightmoon. Well,  _Catra_ isn't speaking to  _Adora_.

 

The blunt sadness seeps slowly through her chest the way it does each time she confronts the thought headlong - it surprises her, though it really shouldn't at this point. Adora’s fingers itch. She clasps the cool handrail and squeezes.

 

“ _Where the hell have you been?_ ”

 

Catra had shown up on her doorstep after the first week of school, arms crossed tight, eyes narrowed. A sunny September morning.

 

“I told you,” Adora answered, though she didn’t repeat  _what_ that answer was, and its absence hung in the air as she stood back and munched on her granola bar. She’d sent a clipped sort of text a couple of weeks before:  _Btw yeah I’m probably going to Brightmoon next semester -_  and on the few occasions they had hung out in the intervening days, neither had brought it up. Frequently, the sudden remembrance was a gut punch, meaning that she had ignored the inevitability hard enough to convince even herself.

 

Adora was in denial that Catra was denial.

 

And if she had thought that Catra was peeved before.

 

Catra’s eyes had slitted dangerously as she stood before her and put her hands on her hips. “Uh, wait,  _did_ you tell me? Adora?!”

 

Adora met her eyes squarely, suppressing the guilt that welled up in her stomach. “I’m going to Brightmoon this year. Mom and Dad agreed it was for the best. I needed a fresh start and you  _know_ how the team’s been getting to me, I haven’t been myself at Horde…I told you, I  _did_  tell you.” She began evenly, but by the end she was placatory - pleading in a way she did not want Catra to see her be.

 

Catra looked contemplative for the briefest moment, and then, like she had only been humoring her, her frown returned with a vengeance. Adora could barely look at her. She picked uneasily at the cuff of her shorts. The air was stifling.

 

“So you’re abandoning me?” Catra demanded finally, and pulled the door shut in her own face before Adora had a chance to answer.

 

In the wake of the deafening slam, Adora didn’t know whether to feel distraught or relieved.

 

She  _hadn’t_ been thinking of Catra, was the honest, uncomfortable truth. She had been thinking of all the wretched hours just  _withering_ in class at Horde High, of the dread that loomed on her once-eager walk to soccer practice, the dirty looks fielded her way from classmates and teammates alike when they thought she couldn’t see. At the end of the semester she had gone straight to Principal Hordak with her polite but frank speech planned out.

 

Catra is nothing if not scrappy. She’ll survive just fine without her. It’s not like they’ll never see each other (or she had  _hoped_.) It’s not like they weren’t friends before either of them ever joined the team, or came to Horde.

 

Adora sighs aloud. She pushes her knees together to prevent her phone from slipping out between them, but she doesn't pick it up again, heart heavy as she returns to her mind's recesses after the brief interruption.

 

Coach Weaver hadn’t been happy when she told her, after her final practice. In fact, it would probably be an understatement to say she was unhappy with Adora’s “drastic, don’t you think?” decision. Instead of the sympathetic disappointment she might have expected to receive from any other teacher, she had responded to Adora’s announcement with a curt “I see” - but Adora could feel the heat of the resentment blistering behind her sharp eyes, her talon-like nails practically puncturing the ratty glove in her hand.

 

She'd slinked out of the changing rooms just as Catra strode in, but Catra didn’t comment on Adora’s slump if she had noticed it. Catra chose not to notice anything contrary to her desires.

 

Anyway, from day one, Brightmoon Academy had been a whirlwind. Having promised herself a break from soccer, however temporary, Adora had tried out for the cheer squad. She can still see the stars in Glimmer’s eyes as she bowed out of her final somersault. Life with the Princesses of Power is a dream: she had learnt no sooner than she’d smoothed the gold shoulders of her new uniform that this squad was a  _squad,_ as Bow had enthused, practically yelling his welcome as he slung his arm around Adora’s shoulders. Some of the seniors on the team weren’t quite as excitable, but it was wonderfully clear - from all the plastic bottles of homemade punch Perfuma brought everyone, from the speedy attention with which Netossa stitched up any loose seams in their uniforms - that they were equally devoted to their squad-squad.

 

Adora had been swept away. Junior year had outshone the rest in less than a week. The first few weeks of school had put everything not-Brightmoon from her thoughts - between the overwhelming tide of eager new friends, stimulating classes, intriguing extracurriculars, there was just no  _space_ for anything else when she felt like her mind was expanding in real time just to contain all the novelties.

 

Anything except Catra, that is.

 

The regret had been gnawing at Adora somewhat surreptitiously, catching her unawares, deflating her at the most unexpected moments. She was on air and then suddenly she wasn’t. Finally, at the park last weekend, she had hung back from Glimmer and Bow while they huddled around Perfuma’s pet frog, and pulled out her phone to text Catra.

 

_Hey. Can we talk?_

 

_Read_ in a matter of minutes.

 

_Catra, seriously. You cant just ignore me.  Please please let’s talk_

 

_Read_ immediately, before her eyes.

 

But it's been a week and they definitely aren't talking.

 

A new slew of notifications lights her phone up. She shifts her thigh to turn it face up, reading each text from the lock screen before it's displaced by the next.

 

_Spinnerella:                 WE’RE MAKING COOKIES <3_

_For tonight_

_･ﾟ*✧･_ _glimmer_ _✧･ﾟ*:_    _mom says pick up milk, i’m telling you guys so you dont forget to remind me_

_mermz:                      milk and cookies, what are we, 4?_

_[bow emoji]:              we are young adults who know hw_

_the JOY of milks and cookies_

_･ﾟ*✧･_ _glimmer_ _✧･ﾟ*_ : _its FOR MOM_

_[bow emoji]:              sure sure so is perfuma's weed_

_･ﾟ*✧･ glimmer ✧･ﾟ*: uh that's *her* mom's weed_

 

Tonight, practice is at some old warehouse place that Entrapta has managed keys to from her parents, since all the rooms at school were booked up. They're meeting at her place. As the bus approaches the stop, Adora finally picks her phone back up.

 

She pulls tight on her ponytail, on the straps of her new backpack, and hops off.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

“ _ She _ \- ?” Adora’s head tilts, her shoulders tensing even as she finishes giving them a good, final roll.

 

“She-Ra. You know?!” Entrapta nods several more times than necessary, shoving a folded uniform into her unsuspecting arms. “Our mascot.”

 

“You’re crazy good, Adora!” Perfuma pipes up from somewhere out of nowhere, and Adora scans the hall to find her grin poking through the bend of a bony arm in the middle of some contortionist-looking stretch. 

 

“What she said!” That’s Bow panting behind her. ( _ Warm-up _ , Adora thinks.) 

 

She blinks around, and it’s clear they’re all in the know here - encouraging eyes, quietly hopeful faces all around the gym, or just a casually pricked ear in Mermista’s case.

 

But Adora’s mouth sours on the word: “Mascot...?”

 

“You get to wear  _ this - _ ” In a flash Entrapta snaps something onto her own head to model it for Adora. Although it’s practically lost in the mass of purple hair, Adora makes out a headband designed to look like a winged golden helm. It’s... pretty cool.

 

“Let me handle this.” Glimmer elbows past Entrapta and takes Adora by the arm, leading her aside. “Uh, She-Ra’s not exactly a normal mascot, she’s more like our…uh,  _ leader _ . She’s got the kinda power we’re channeling here. We usually always have someone play her in the free routines,” she explains, “but ever since Mara graduated early - well, no one’s really been up to the mark…” 

 

Adora shifts on her feet, a tentative smile creeping. The admiration in Glimmer’s voice actually manages to uplift more than unnerve her.

 

“Until you, obviously! We all know you’ve got the skills. You’re a great team player, and we think you’d be a great leader, too. So, do you wanna be the new She-Ra?” She clasps Adora’s hands where they’re clutching the uniform. “Um, you can say no, of course,” she adds hastily. But her eyes shine like she’d cry if Adora did. 

 

“I…” Adora’s mouth hangs for a moment. It’s a  _ lot _ ; more than she could have imagined when she came here. In fact, her technical chops feel like a weirdly minor part of it when she thinks about all these open arms. Her chest swells.

 

“You know what... it would be an honour.” 

 

The Princesses always like to take their sweet time warming up. It’s probably because they warm their vocal cords up as much as their muscles, hurling all these random fragments of interrupted conversations and strange affectionate gibes at each other across the echoey gym. Adora chuckles as she shakes Bow, whooping, off her shoulder. “ _ She-Ra! _ ” Netossa yelps, hugging her rolled up mat as she cheers. Mermista bounces out of her stretches and gives Adora a very validating pat on the shoulder.

 

-

 

Today is Bow’s birthday, and somehow it’s a much bigger deal than Adora had ever expected.

 

The HAPPY BOWRTHDAY!!!! group chat, formerly the Princess Group Chat (trying to keep it that way had been a fool’s errand), had blown up in a string of dings at exactly 12AM on the dot, shocking Adora onto her butt. She sat up properly in bed and made sure to pull her headphones out before scrolling through the messages. Yawning, she added her own simple message to the stream of wacky gifs and stickers before turning in for good.

 

All day Bow and this apparently enormously important occasion has been the focus of their excitement. Adora wonders what her own birthday would be like amongst this new tribe - she doesn’t know if she could handle the hubbub. But it’s kind of amazing how eagerly they rush into this excuse just to celebrate their friend, like they’ve been waiting for it all year. Which they have.

 

They’ve pooled their cash for a stunning action figure of Bow’s favourite superhero, whose movie is - as they haven’t heard the  _ end  _ of since the first day of class - coming out on Bow’s birthday. This morning in home room Perfuma had bequeathed him a gorgeous flower crown (her skills had netted her a couple of weekend shifts at the florist’s in town.) He wore it through the school day, accepting birthday wishes in the form of small organic additions. 

 

As they walk across the parking lot to the movie theatre, Adora laughingly sprinkles some grass in it, earning a playful shove in the shoulder. Bow can barely stick in his seat during the movie, gripping the armrest to Adora’s left with a frankly frightening passion. They’ve definitely picked the right gift, Adora thinks darkly. 

 

Afterwards they congregate in Bow’s favourite joint for an enthusiastically chosen meal of shakes and burgers. Adora’s only been here once. She hopes she’ll have a better grip on these kinds of decisions by the time her own birthday rolls around. 

 

When they walk in, however, she  _ wishes _ today’s decision had been hers. She’d have made it in a snap.

 

Catra’s in the corner booth. Feet on the opposite table, the effort of sucking her thick milkshake through the straw puckering her brow (or is that just her mood?)

 

Adora averts her gaze as fast as it had alighted on her, but her breath and her step hitch. Glimmer spares her a brief glance of worry in the middle of her sentence. She ducks behind and friends, and then swiftly into far corner seat so she’s (fingers crossed) obscured from view.

 

She swallows her heart back down to her chest, trying to exhale the very thought of Catra. She’s with her friends - she’s going to ignore her. There’s a blur of chairs and the sound of a pile of laminated menus being pulled this way and that. She doesn’t register until one is before her and she’s staring down at the garish but strangely appetising milkshake pictures. Focus.

 

Anyway, she’s tired of chasing Catra, right?

 

Adora’s eyes go everywhere, desperate to be distracted. Beside her, Glimmer’s are going back and forth like a pendulum between two equally sickly looking parfaits. Entrapta’s doing frantic price calculations on her phone with one hand while flipping between the sides of the menu with the other.

 

Under the table Adora flexes her fingers out of her clenched fist. 

 

It’s the  _ sight _ of her that stings like a slap, bringing everything back in a rush. The image itself is boiled into a swirl by the emotion in her chest, but the shock of that moment sticks, and Adora struggles to concentrate - to not to look again and make the feeling new. 

 

“I’m gonna have the Legendairy shake,” she hears Bow announce amongst a few other voices and says, “Same here,” unthinkingly, to move all this along. 

 

A distant laugh,  _ her _ laugh, makes another glance impossible and Adora notices that Catra’s with Scorpia, who swirls a spoon in her iced drink as she continues whatever story she’s telling. 

 

The laughter erupts on her own table and she forgets to join in. Glimmer quips at Bow’s order, a reference she’s heard a few times; the kind of oblique inside joke that she wouldn’t understand even if it was explained to her, full of the layers that only form with time (and Adora hasn’t been here long enough.) There’s only one person who she’s ever had those sort of jokes with.

 

Maybe seeing Adora’s face would be just as much of a gut punch - she hopes so. It’s the least Adora can want, because just  _ imagine _ the scene if  _ Catra  _ had been the one left hanging for weeks - 

 

“Adora, fries? Adora?”

 

“Oh. Yeah, uh, those ones.” She exhales as nonchalantly as possible. Entrapta gives her a funny look but adds it to the long list made to streamline their group order.

 

It’s probably a matter of time until she notices and comes over; puts Adora out of the misery of this awful trepidation. She does her best to let it be, figuring she can stand to wait a little longer. But all Adora continues to do is inject stilted replies into their conversations, sweating in her hoodie, until she finally thinks she should take it off before her meal arrives.

 

When their order comes in a train of mouthwatering stacks, it tracks the eyes of every table for a second. Adora pulls off her sweater clumsily, heart thundering as her vision blocks off for those brief seconds.

 

And then, in a moment of strange calm, she decides to rip the bandaid off. Adora looks straight up towards where Catra is - 

 

Where Catra is looking, right at her eyes, like they’ve been waiting for each other. Her stomach clenches horribly. The cups and plates being set down break their gaze intermittently but Adora’s eyes remain fixed on the point; until, finally, Catra glances away casually. There’s blank sort of glaze over her fierce eyes, but Adora knows her and knows that they simmer underneath.

 

Her appetite has whooshed away. Her breath is shallow. She rests her chin in her palm, fidgets a little, swapping her cutlery between her rigid hands. The burger smell makes her feel a little sick. 

 

Catra stands up in the corner of Adora’s eye. Adora tries not to stiffen. She heads for the restroom.

 

It’s only on her way back that Catra takes the long route, bumping up against the end of their long booth. 

 

“Adora!” She says, a hard sort of fake surprise in her voice. The table soon falls quiet, piqued. “Fancy seeing you here.” Catra cranes her neck for effect, but Adora down by the window, sits up straight. She has nothing to shy from.

 

“Catra,” she says immediately, but she knows by the mild disquiet on Entrapta’s face across from her that her own expression must be dark. The table falls from quiet to silent.

 

“These your new friends?”

 

That makes Adora wince. Some of her new friends make a half-hearted ‘hey’, but the tension is sharp and tight now, suddenly all-consuming. Glimmer’s eyes swivel between them behind her huge sundae.

 

“Um, everyone, this is my - this is Catra. We used to go to school together.”

 

Bow bites the bullet. “Ah, Horde Academy, right,” he coughs genially, but it falls a little flat.

 

“Well,  _ I  _ still go there,” Catra enunciates too slowly. “But yeah, we did. We were on the soccer team together.” 

 

Adora curls her tongue in her mouth, but against what she isn’t sure. Her cheeks burn. 

 

“Oh right, you played soccer!” Perfuma’s turn to try leaven the mood. And Catra manages to twist it for the worse.

 

She addresses Adora. “You mean you gave it up? Coach still blames  _ me _ for losing our best player!” Her words seem to ring around the table. She says it with a sort of laugh that’s both harsh and silky, a tinge unhinged; the laugh that Adora’s always known as a warning for damage control.

 

But she’s never been the target of the damage.

 

Glimmer gives her a look of consternation that makes her feel quite a lot worse.

 

“Say hi to Scorpia for me,” Adora says evenly, cupping her glass. She’s not gonna let Catra ruin this evening of all evenings.

 

“Nice seeing you, Adora,” Catra says over her. “I  _ guess _ .” And before any of them could have said a word even if they  _ weren’t _ totally at a loss, she turns and stalks away. 

 

“Whaaat…”

 

“Whew.” 

 

“ _ Yikes _ .”

 

“Adora?” Bow takes her shoulder gently. 

 

“I’m fine, Bow,” she assures, taking his arm. “It’s fine, guys, I know how to handle her.” 

 

But Catra hadn’t given her a word in edgeways, and Adora misses almost every word of the talk for the following few minutes. The next time she spies Catra leaving her seat, Adora says, “Gimme a sec.”

 

Catra doesn’t see her coming until Adora slides her cup under the water dispenser next to her. 

 

“Hey, Adora.” 

 

“Look, whatever’s between us - don’t do that in front of my friends.”

 

“Do what?” Catra drawls, flipping the ketchup packet in her hand as she turns to leave. “Be honest?”

 

Adora catches her wrist. She thinks Catra’s going to wrench it away for second. Almost wishes she did, because it feels weird and bad - _ wave of regret _ bad - to touch her after so long, and like this. Just like with the sight of her, Adora hadn’t expected this lousy shock. Catra stiffens. Adora swallows. 

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“I don’t, actually,” Catra says plainly, “really can’t see what I’ve done wrong here.”

 

Adora sighs. Suddenly, loath to relinquish her grip, now that she has her. To let her go without the month of answers she’s owed. What if this is the last time?

 

“I know you can’t be this mad at me, just for leaving  _ Horde  _ -”

 

“What are you talking about? You leaving was the best that happened to me.”

 

Adora’s grip falters, but it doesn’t fail. She squeezes the wrist, unsure if she wants to dig her nails in deep or just pull Catra to her. Someone’s probably looking at them. Adora can’t unclench her jaw. “I know you don’t mean that.” But she feels like she’s talking to herself. 

 

“Why? You’re the only one allowed to be doing great?” She can  _ hear  _ the scowl in Catra’s voice.

 

Adora bristles through the hurt,  _ from _ it.  “I never said that-”

 

“Shit, ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

 

She can’t help but squeeze down on Catra’s wrist, just for the  _ meanness  _ in the face of her feelings “- And how would  _ you  _ know how I’m doing?” It comes out too raw - the first real feeling she’s voiced. 

 

It changes  _ Catra’s  _ gait, the bow of her shoulders. 

 

Adora schools her breath. “I just thought I was more important to you.”

 

Catra turns around then, and she crosses her arms, and her brows are up in her hairline, and her eyes saucers. “ _ You? _ ” It’s a look that jolts Adora’s brain into gear, like a river being undammed. And in - at last - flows the guilt. She’s frozen on the spot.

 

Catra’s eyes blaze at her. They’re ferocious, and Adora can’t help how foreign and wrong it feels to be faced with such a face; this look she’s rarely gotten even in the long course of their friendship - but then she supposes she’s never given her a reason before. 

 

Catra ticks her head in the direction of Adora’s table. It’s hard to look at her. It’s like all the intensity of her body has flown to her face. “So, do you even miss me?” 

 

That didn’t feel rhetorical. 

 

Tears prick Adora’s eyes. Catra pulls her wrist out of her grasp without much effort and walks away. There are one or two backward glances, full of an injury - something really personal, running deeper and sadder than anger - that feels like a side of Catra that Adora’s  _ never _ seen.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> here it is on [tumblr](http://guileheroine.tumblr.com/post/181709157193/red-vines-chapter-1-adoras-life-is-finally) and i'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dalpurii)


End file.
